Shade
by Olivia von Dread
Summary: People are rather like the pictures that can be created of them. F!LW/Charon


AN: This is my first story in a very long time. I've bounced from fandom to fandom and I've finally found something that I like in the Fallout series. Soooo, without further ado, here is le fic.

Shade

He was just so rough.

The lines she used to make his face were always uneven and broken, and she wished she had something, _anything_, she could use to color in the black and white.

She didn't think he ever noticed what she was doing. He was observant but she had quick eyes and could see every movement he would make before he even so much as twitched, so long as she kept her wits about her. It made her an excellent shot in the wastes but an even better artist when the night hit and it was time to make camp.

It was just so much better than drawing anyone else. 'Smoothskins' had too few details in the right places and too many details in all the wrong spots. Ghouls had a different facial structure—no nose, no ears, very little hair to distract her from what the eyes were supposed to portray. Every single sketch had been made to perfection, from what was left of his face to his armor to the details in the background.

She rather thought that people were like the pictures that could be drawn of them. Amata had been nice to draw; a soft, round face and big bright eyes that would one day demand respect, much like the girl herself. These things gave way to make her nose more noticeable, a perfect nose, she thought, innocent and small, just like Amata. She had drawn a picture of Butch on a day he had decided to treat her like she was a peer as opposed to a punching bag; his perfect hair was what brought all of the attention to his face and his cocky grin, cocky just like him.

Her favorite person in the world to draw had used to be her father. The man had such a kind face, and she found his simple looks to be very good at capturing his eyes, all of the incredible emotion that he held in those brown irises just spilled out onto the paper. She was proud that he had at least taken all of the pictures she'd given him when he abandoned her at the vault only four months ago. It was her only consolation, and she felt like at least that part of her could watch out for him as she searched for his location.

And now that favoritism lay with Charon. The ghoul didn't have many expressions to capture facially—he was a ghoul after all. But his eyes always let a little something away; confusion, entertainment, interest, anger, all swirled into little milky pools. He had no physical features to distract from those eyes, and she had fallen in love with drawing him.

Tonight she was drawing something she thought would be a masterpiece. Charon quietly cleaning his gun in the light of the fire, Dogmeat laying at his legs asleep and the moon bright and glorious in the background. She was devastated that this picture would as well be left to the black and white of her pen, wished that she had some paint, color pencils, even _crayons_ so that she could make the scene livelier.

He knew she was drawing, but she would never, ever tell him what her muse had been for the past three months. It wasn't necessary, it wasn't practical and it was a little strange at best.

"What?"

She cursed in her head. She had blanked out staring at him, a first for her, as she usually flitted her eyes away before he could even realize he was being watched.

"Oh… nothing. Don't worry about it. I just spaced out." She smiled at him and turned back to her sketch so he wouldn't think anything was wrong.

She had just finished drawing Dogmeat, the large dog's mangy fur shaded in properly to show the glow of the campfire. The only thing left to do was shade Charon in. She left it for last because it was her favorite part to do with this medium.

But something wasn't right, she thought, and she looked up to him to see what her mistake was. She quickly realized that he had moved his position, and either he was deathly quiet about it or she was so absorbed in her work that she hadn't noticed. She frowned and thought of how she was going to do this. He rarely ever moved, which made him a perfect model, but apparently he had become uncomfortable with how he was sitting before.

"Smoothskin," She gasped quietly, bringing her hand to her mouth, narrowly avoiding the pen inking her cheek. "What are you looking at me like that for?" He sounded irritated, but she supposed anyone would be after a certain point. It just so happened that his fuse was a bit shorter than anyone else's.

"I'm sorry. I just keep spacing out. I'll pay more attention." She dove back into her book again, but this time it couldn't provide a barrier thick enough to hide her from the continuation of this conversation.

"You've been staring at me for the past two hours. Nobody spaces out that much, not even you." Her eyes widened and she hoped that he didn't notice.

"I'm sorry." She squeaked, burying herself further into the inked pages. She heard him mumble something to himself before he went back to what he was doing. She must have been off her game tonight, because he knew she was watching him. It was a little embarrassing but it could be ignored for now. She would have to shade this picture by memory. Using Dogmeat as a reference helped, and she soon found herself back into her muse.

She was almost done, only the face left, the little extra details and she would be finished and she could rest peacefully tonight. A line there, sharpen that edge and finally, her favorite piece yet was complete. She held it back to admire her work and smiled lovingly at the scene. She would hate to ever forget an image like that.

But the feeling of being watched slowly crept into her senses. She looked up and around the picture to see Dogmeat still fast asleep on the ground, but no Charon in sight. She inhaled sharply and turned to her right; nothing. To her left; she recoiled and almost shrieked in horror when she saw Charon staring down at the picture, slightly leaned forward, probably because his milky white eyes didn't have as good of a view six feet and five inches in the air.

She slammed the book shut and brought it to her chest. "Can I help you with something, Charon?" The sentence came out sounding like one long, terrified word. The ghoul stood up straight again and looked at her, not in anger or irritation, but he looked genuinely amused. She sucked in a breath and wished she could take a picture of his face at that exact moment so she could draw it… but it was gone forever, she thought.

He shook his head and walked back to where he was seated before with a bottle of water in his rotting hand (it must have been what he originally moved for.)

She was mortified. The only thing that could make her feel better was to draw something again, but she couldn't bear to open the very thing that had just gotten her in trouble only a few moments ago. She watched the fire flicker into the air, hiding all of her face but her eyes in her arms.

"It's a good picture." She shot up at that, having expected silence for the next week or so. Instead, her ears rung with every word of the complement, his deep and scratchy voice stuck in her mind. She smiled, running a finger across the spine of the book.

"Thank you." Maybe one day she could show him all of the other pictures, and maybe one day she would have the pleasure of drawing those eyes, full of amusement, and shading them in.


End file.
